A reasonably short stroke piece with this submission. It's been a while since I submitted to Lit, and thought it was time to add another scene to the count.
It begins mid-affair, the deed has been done, and I pick it up one morning with the mother preparing for an encounter with her son.
As ever, I hope you enjoy the scene. Feedback is appreciated. If you want to let me know your thoughts you can use the Public Comments forum below, email or by dropping me a PM.
I apologise for any errors that remain in the piece; I self-edit and often miss stuff that on subsequent reads through are obvious howlers. It seems no matter how much I go over stuff, even putting it on Kindle as an editing tool, I still miss things.
Anyway, here 'tis.
GA – Benissa, Spain – 12th November 2013.
Prologue
Diane wriggled into the skirt, tugging it over her hips before tucking in the pristine white blouse and zipping the skirt at the side. She turned this way and that, checking her profile and the smooth sweep of the skirt over her buttocks. Then, patting the flat plane of her stomach, pleased at the way the blouse stayed tucked in tight, as smart as a soldier on parade, Diane smiled at her reflection.
She checked the drop of the skirt's hem, concerned about the length. It would do, she decided. Not too short, and it wasn't obvious she was wearing stockings underneath. Not that she would be too long out in public view, but she didn't want people to see too much. Diane knew she would feel self-conscious enough as it was going out in a tight skirt and no underwear, she didn't need to give herself any more anxiety by wondering if people had guessed what a slut she really was. Her tummy flipped when the reason for wearing stockings came to mind. Illicit desire, the deep taboo of her yearning slid from her pussy. She shivered, thrilled and appalled in equal measure as she looked at her reflection, wondering who the woman was in the mirror. She had changed so much recently, really shocked herself by being drawn in to such wickedness. Diane didn't recognise herself.
Pushing the thoughts aside – it was a little late for what if – Diane examined her make-up, a final inspection and a quick tease of her fingers through her hair, mussing the shoulder length blonde coiffure for the effect she knew he liked, apparently casual but expensive to achieve.
Diane shrugged into the jacket, the one that matched the skirt and gave her the brisk, professional look she cultivated. After all, she was a brisk, professional woman. A busy lady in the world of real estate and she had to look the part.
Moving in front of the full-length mirror again she posed and pouted at her image, eyeing herself and affecting a hot-eyed expression of desire. As an experiment she lifted the hem of the skirt, squirming to move the edge up far enough to expose her pudendum. Then, captivated, Diane stared, thrilled by the effect of her plump pussy framed by garter belt and stockings, her vulva nestled there all cosy between her thighs.
She considered giving herself a little rub but decided against it, her husband might catch her at it and ruin everything. He would wonder why she wore stockings for work and ask questions she wasn't prepared to answer. Diane was already confused enough without further complications. The affair consumed her, caused all manner of conflicting emotions to bubble up. One minute she was caught up in the heady rush of excitement, the sheer recklessness thrilling her – it was so bad, so wicked – but at other times the guilt was almost crippling.
What was she thinking? How would it all end? How
could
it end?
Diane sighed, vacillating as she smoothed the skirt down over her hips. For the umpteenth time that morning she convinced herself she wouldn't do it. She would be strong and would not succumb to the base urge that drove her.
But deep down she knew she was only kidding herself. Diane knew that despite her internal wrangling and good intentions she wouldn't be able to resist the lure of illicit sex. As bad as she knew she'd feel in the immediate aftermath, she couldn't deny herself.
"Right, I'm off," she said, breezing through the kitchen.
Her husband glanced up from the breakfast table. "Okay," he responded. "Have a good day." His eyes dropped to the newspaper – he offered no endearments, no goodbye kiss.
In the face of this bland indifference Diane stared at him for a few seconds. It was a look of such hostility that, if he had glanced up and seen it, might have made him question the cause of his wife's venomous expression.
She shook her head slowly from side-to-side, contempt curling her lip. That clinched it. She'd had doubts, lots of them, but now she would do it.
"I'm going to work, Liam!" Diane called up the stairs as she paused at the front door.
"Okay," came her son's reply. "See you."
Diane opened the door and stepped outside. She closed it behind her and studied the street – Victorian terraced houses, cars parked along the kerb, a typical road in a typical town in Lincolnshire, nothing out of the ordinary. But the assignation awaiting her that day was anything but ordinary. Diane wondered if anyone else in the street had committed a sin as huge as hers, behaved in such a degenerate way. Diane breathed a sigh and decided it was unlikely anyone else in that street had been so steeped in depravity, with the exception of one person, obviously.
Diane walked the three steps to the gate, heels tapping on the flagstones. The gate opened with a squeaky protest and she strode out onto the pavement. Turning left, Diane threw a glance up towards the second storey window, top left in the red brick façade. She couldn't make out if anyone up there was watching, so she walked away, heading for the silver Golf four cars up the road.
It was a benign morning, mid-June, and after Diane changed shoes, the heels were not conducive to road safety, she turned the ignition key, the Golf's engine catching immediately. Diane pulled out of the line of cars lining the road nose-to-tail, but that day, instead of making her way to the great artery of the A1, her usual route, Diane drove to the town centre and parked in the multi-storey.
She was sitting in Starbucks with a skinny decaf latte – caramel – when her mobile phone announced the receipt of a text.
Diane picked up the device and looked at the screen. She saw a two-worded message that despite its brevity caused a flip-flop sensation in her stomach:
He's gone
, she read.
The hands that grasped the steering wheel of the Golf a few minutes later trembled, and later, after changing back into the heels, the legs that carried Diane to her front door felt weak. Knock-kneed with anticipation she wondered – and not for the first time – just what it was that motivated her.
She was shaking all over when, after closing the front door to her home behind her, Diane stepped onto the first tread of the stairs.
When she pushed open his bedroom door her son, naked, with his hard-on in one fist, looked at her and smiled.
"Hello, Mum," he said.
One
"Oh God," Diane breathed, her eyes fixed on Liam's erection. "Just look at you."
Liam lay on his double bed, quilt thrown aside, his erection upright. He looked at his mother, still smiling. "Are you going to come in?" he asked.
Diane hesitated. She had one hand on the door handle, half-in half-out of his room. Liam saw her blink, her eyes going from his face to his cock before sliding away to her right, away from him.
"Come in, Mum," said Liam, his tone firm. He watched her, his stare flat and level, a predatory look. "Come on, Mum," he cajoled, almost wheedling. "I've been waiting for you." Liam stroked his length and then gripped it close to its root. "Look at how much I want you, Mum."
Diane's head lifted gradually. She gulped and with apparent reluctance turned her face towards her son.
"We shouldn't..." she breathed.
With her expression troubled, eyes wide and locked on her own son's long cock, Diane's head moved side-to-side with slow metronomic regularity.
"Liam," she continued, her tongue sliding over suddenly dry lips. "This isn't right. We ... We..."
"But you want to, Mum," Liam said, interrupting his mother. "You say all that stuff; you say we shouldn't, it's wrong ... but you want to, Mum. I know you do. You like it just as much as I do."
Liam waggled his hard-on in emphasis.
"You know I'm right," he insisted, his hand moving up and down to maintain the full-bodied tumescence. "So why don't you just come in. Close the door. Come over here, Mum." He beckoned with a wave of his free hand. "Come here. Kiss me."
Drawn by her son's voice, lulled by his gentle tone, Diane took two steps into his bedroom.
"Shut the door, Mum," Liam instructed. "I like it closed."
"Oh," Diane said, although the sound was more whimper than word. She paused, hesitating, still unsure.
But she couldn't help herself, the sight of her son caressing his own cock, the sight of it so terribly fascinating, enticed her deeper into the room.
"That's it," Liam purred. He let go of his dick and eased onto his side to face her, one elbow against the bed, his temple resting against his fist as he grinned and watched her come closer. "You look good, Mum," he added, his eyes roving over Diane's smart suit. "Really good."
He reached out, fingers extended, palm up.
"What did you tell them?" Liam asked as his mother moved towards him.
In an automatic response Diane touched the tips of her son's fingers with her own. Liam's hand closed on hers. She stared down at him, glancing at his erection before his gaze pulled her attention to his eyes.
"That I had to go to the dentist," Diane mumbled. "They said as long as I could get to work by lunchtime..."
Then she was on the bed, one knee resting on the mattress, a hand supporting herself on one straight arm as she hovered above Liam.
Liam released his mother's hand to reach up towards her. His fingers pushed into her hair and he brought her head down slowly, his eyes locked on hers. He saw her reluctance but continued to ease his mother's face closer, rising from the bed to meet her.
"Oh no," Diane mumbled a second before her son's lips touched hers.
And then she capitulated, simply relaxed, the tension flowing out of her muscles when she relented and accepted her son's tongue.
Abruptly ardent, Diane clambered onto the bed. She was eager for him by then, her breath panting into Liam's open mouth, her hands against his face as she sucked at the slippery flesh.
